


show me a hero (and i will write you a tragedy).

by flustraaa



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Criminal Minds RPF
Genre: Angry Spencer Reid, Anxiety, Anxious Spencer Reid, Drug Addiction, Episode: s02e15 Revelations, Family Dynamics, Gen, Panic Attacks, Penelope Garcia is a gem, Post Episode: s02e15 Revelations, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective Derek Morgan, Reid is definitely a little OOC, Sad Spencer Reid, Sassy Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Angst, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Whump, Spencer Reid deserves better, TW:, don’t come for me, he says some stuff he doesn’t mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24679600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: “i understand your anger,” hotch says, reaching out to rest a hand on reid’s shoulder, halting in mid-air, “you think we didn’t notice; and if we did, we didn’t love you enough to help.”reid deflates, face crumpling as he curls up, making himself impossibly small— and hotch thinks that perhaps it’s a reflection of how he feels.“i’m angry,” reid mumbles, tears welling in his eyes, “because my best is never good enough.”
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid & Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Comments: 23
Kudos: 473





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pov u’re my friend and i bouncing back and the withdrawl symptoms of dilaudid and the amount of ooc that is just ~spicy~ enough.

It’s simple, he reassures himself, as he comes back from his unconscious state on the floor of the matience closet. After today— which he assured himself would be the last day he got high, he would focus on everything and anything to distract him from the cravings. 

He pushes himself up, rolling down his sleeve and slipping out of the closet before returning to the bullpen. Emily is staring at him like she can see right through him and it leaves him unsettled to his very core. 

She blinks at him before looking away, and Morgan quickly obscured his view. 

“Hotch needs you in his office,” He states, and theres something in his voice that’s equally as alarming as the heat behind Emily’s stare. “Now.” 

Reid walks up the steps, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets as he kicks open the door with a sigh. 

Hotch looks up, eyes cold and serious, “close the door behind you.” 

_That’s not good_ , Reid thinks distantly, nodding as he closes the door with his back as hands still shoved deep in his pockets to hide the shaking. 

“This will never leave these four walls. The team has been worried about you, and we just pulled your tox screens from the hospital. Your behaviour started making a lot more sense when I realised what was happening.” 

The room is spinning, and not because Spencer is definitely still coming down from high. He feels Hotch’s hands on his shoulders guiding him back down onto the couch as Spencer fumbles for words. 

“You can’t— I’m— those are _private_ ,” Spencer wheezes, looking at his shaking knees, “I don’t need— there’s nothing _wrong_.” 

Hotch simply sits on the coffee table, observing Reid for a long moment, “you’re high _now_ , aren’t you?” 

Spencer can’t meet Hotch’s eyes

“It’s okay to need help,” Hotch tells him, but Spencer’s eyes are still trained on the ground. “What’s _not_ okay is to not _want_ to try at all.” 

“I _tried_ ,” Spencer mumbles, “but I was so mad at everything and I didn’t like feeling that.” 

Hotch sighs, glancing at the bullpen where the team is huddled together shamelessly staring. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Hotch commands, but his voice is oddly soft, “I’m going to send you home this week—“ 

“But—“

Hotch ignores him, moving on, “We’ll tell everyone you have the flu, but I will be sending the team to watch you in shifts. _Capisce_?” 

Spencer finally raises his eyes to Hotch who simply stares him down in return, “I know you don’t like help, but it’s either this, or I send you to rehab and have to write an official incidence report and notify more people.” 

Spencer swallows hard, fiddling with the buttons of his cardigan, shaking hands in full view. 

“Reid,” Hotch sighs, “You know we’re doing this because we love you, right?” 

Spencer shrugs complacently, gnawing on the inside of this cheek, “I _guess_.”

He tries to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispers that the cracks in him are too deep to be _loved_. His mess is not beautiful, it is just that. A mess of insurmountable flaws. 

“I need you to be honest, are you still coming down from a high?” Spencer just nods- a single clipped bob of the head. 

Hotch nods, “How long does it take to come down?” 

“A couple hours. I dosed probably like thirty minutes ago,” he murmurs, voice abashed, “this is the clearer side, in another half hour I’ll be a mess.” 

Hotch just listens, nodding. His eyes reflect his disappointment, but there’s something fatherly about how he’s looking at Reid, “I’ll go get you some water, I want you to take a quick nap. That’s an _order_ , lay down.” 

Spencer just lets out a huff, laying down on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Hotch disappears and reappears, setting a water on the coffee table and returning to his work. 

A little over half an hour passes before the high fully hits Reid. The ceiling is splotching with colours and it feels like the couch he’s laying on is swaying beneath him. He can feel Hotch’s eyes on him, but he can’t begin to think about anything besides how good it feels to be _lost_. 

He lets his eyes close and slowly he drifts into the numbing void of nothingness, somewhere between darkness and bliss. 

Once Reid’s breathing has dropped off, eyelids fluttering with whatever dreams are running through his head, he rises to his feet gesturing to the briefing room— the team following in suit. 

Once they arrive he sighs, closing the door behind them and slapping the tox screens down on the table. 

“This doesn’t feel real,” Penelope is the first one to speak, “out of all of us, it was Boy Wonder.” 

A dark cloud fills the space around them, and it’s Prentiss who sighs, “I can’t believe it took us this long to...” she trails off, resting her chin on her palm. 

“Reid is high,” Hotch says, and they look at him, “He’s sleeping it off in my office but as soon as he’s up I’m sending him home.” 

“I’ll go with him,” Morgan offers, “I have more experience than I’d care to admit.” 

“I’ll go too,” JJ says with a nod, “I’ve taken care of a sick Reid.” 

Hotch nods, continuing, “I’ve given him the week off. I want someone with him at all times. Remember, he’s going to be a mess during the withdrawal.” 

“This is Reid,” Penelope murmurs sadly, “We’d do anything to see him okay again.” 

“This is Spence,” JJ echos, “and we will do anything to help him right now and always.” 

  
  


Reid wakes up to JJ and Morgan sitting over him, watching him carefully. He can’t stop the mumble that escapes his lips when he murmurs, “ _oh_ , it _wasn’t_ a dream.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Kid,” Morgan jests, but it does little to lighten the mood with the serious overtone of the situation.

“We’re taking you home,” and it’s much to their surprise that the kid complies without complaint. He rises to his feet, stiff limbs cracking as he follows them out and to the car. 

He sits in the backseat, eyes staring vacantly out the window, body still with the exception of the tremors in his hands.

He’s broken out of his stupor by JJ, who’s turned backwards in her seat to look at him, “Do you have any on you?”

“If you have my bag, yeah. If my bags still in Hotch’s— _oh_ , yeah. It’s in the bottom, there’s an inner side pocket,” He mumbles, “there’s also some behind my copy of _War and Peace_. I shoved it in the back of my book case. The needles and capsules are in my go bag in the back of my car— the one I used today is in one of the biohazard containers in the bathroom.”

“Good,” JJ says softly, “That’s a _start_.”

Reid adverts his gaze back out the window, allowing his head to thumb back against the seat of the car.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Kid,” Morgan avers, sending Reid a wary glance in the mirror. “What going on up there, kid?”

“Did you know they approved Dilaudid as a lethal injection drug? It’s potency is already substantial enough that it’s—“ he trails off, catching the concerned look that Morgan sends him in the rearview.

“Is that your little Boy Genius way of telling us you want to die?” Reid can tell from the way Morgan phrases it that’s it’s _meant_ to be lighthearted.

But he can’t bring himself to _answer_.

The car goes silent and Morgan glances back at Reid a few times in the mirror before pulling the car over and turning to look at him. Reid just stares back, gnawing silently on the side of his cheek.

“Am I missing _something_ here, Kid?” Morgan asks, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar, but Reid shakes his head dismissively, lips pulled into a thin line.

“No, I’m... just addicted to an opiate— suicidal thoughts are actually a biproduct of— this is just unsettling you more isn’t it? Oh look at that I’m exhausted,” he closes he eyes, chin on his wrist as he feigns a few snores.

“We’re not done—“ JJ clears her throat, and a Morgan just huffs out a frustrated sigh, gritting his teeth and restarting the engine. 

Morgan just sends a few stray glances at Reid, and he finds himself wondering if the kid actually did fall asleep. The answer is made clear when the car comes to a full stop, and Morgan sees Reid sitting up— lacking anything that remotely resembles grogginess.

He makes eye contact with Morgan in the mirror and he jolts, eyes darting back and forth before he exaggerates a yawn, rubbing his eyes, “What a good _nap_?” 

Morgan rolls his eyes and he sighs, following the duo with a low hunghead as they reach his apartment. He shuffles around his pockets for his keys, jamming them into the door. He allows JJ and Morgan to glance around— JJ’s eyes immediately find the bookshelf, and when she lands on the binding of _War and Peace_ , she pulls it out. 

Spencer watches her shoulders drop minutely, her forearm disappears into the hole and pulls out two vials. 

She turns to look at him with poorly masked despair, “I’m putting all of my trust in you. I am choosing to believe that you wouldn’t lie, and that this is all of it.” 

Spencer’s bottom lip nestles it’s way between his teeth, shoulders dropping as he sits down adjacent his coffee table, pulling the uncut two vials he tucked away in the couch cushions.

“These are the only other ones,” he laments, extending them up and out to her, earnestly (and somewhat ashamed) tacking on, “I _promise_.” 

She nods, disappearing out the front door with them and he deflates, dropping his head into his hands. 

“You tired, kid?” Morgan appears in his peripheral view. Spencer simply shakes his head, ”you should lay down. As soon as withdrawal hits you’re going to wish you had.” 

Spencer complies, knowing that in the next few hours he’s going to be the type of person that makes his friends leave— though distantly, he supposes, he’s been that person since _childhood_. 

He can hear Morgan opening and closing his cabinets and he allows his mind to wander, never truly falling asleep despite having allowed his eyes to flutter to a shut. 

He hears his door open and shut and he realises that JJ must have returned— he feels her hovering above his prone frame prior to making any motions that actually acknowledge her presence. 

Slowly, she crouches in front of him tucking away the strands of hair that have made theirselves at home on his face. 

She slowly rises to her feet, leaving him lying on the couch. She props a bit of the blinds open, incase Reid is either pretending to be asleep for her own an Morgan’s mental stability, or wakes up. It’s probably the former, but a woman can dream. 

“Is he asleep?” Morgan questions, not even glancing away from the pantry. 

“Seems like it,” She responds simply, lifting herself to sit on the island counter, “What’s the damage here?” 

“He’s a mess, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.” Morgan pills open Reid’s fridge and freezer first. 

All together, there’s a mostly empty pack of dinosaur chicken nuggets, jarred maraschino cherries, a block of cream cheese, and a bottle with only orange Flintstone’s Gummies. 

And the sight of the pantry isn’t much better. Inside, there sits melatonin, three bags of ground coffee and a _single_ saltine cracker on the shelf.

JJ doesn’t hesitate at the sight, pulling her phone from her pocket and calling Prentiss. 

“Hey, can you tell whoever is watching Reid next to bring some... well, anything of sustenance?” She rolls her eyes, “I’m talking chicken noodle soup? Eggs? Maybe even a vegetable of some sort?” 

“It’s that bad?” She sighs. 

“ _Worse_ ,” Morgan calls softly, rifling through the cupboards. 

“Yeah,” Prentiss says, “Hotch is headed your way with the goods now. He’s not going to stay but he didn’t want to leave you two there without any source of food.” 

“Oh, we could share the five dinosaur nuggets and the block of cream cheese,” JJ suggests, the desperation in her voice clear.

“Block of— I’ll bet you three shots that it’s mouldy,” Prentiss says. 

Morgan shrugs, reaching into the fridge and pulling the cream cheese from its packet gagging when he sees a single _bite mark_ in it. 

“Oh my God,” Morgan says breathlessly, “He’s more of a mess than I thought.” 

  
  


A few hours pass of JJ and Morgan tip toeing around the apartment before the couch dips beside Reid and a hand finds its way to his shoulders. 

He hasn’t been asleep, per se, but he can tell his eyes definitely have been closed for a few hours based on the odd feeling that he can only relate to grogginess when he looks at JJ. 

Time flies when you’re on an extremely potent opiate that’s been cut with a psychedelic, he thinks coolly.

“Hey,” she states softly, “I thought you’d be harder to stir, you haven’t moved in hours. Do you have any appetite? Hotch brought some food. I think we should try to get some into you now because you probably won’t be able to keep much down once the withdrawal symptoms hit.”

Spencer looks at her, rubbing a hand over his face, “How much do you want me to force down?”

“Just a little. If you find you’re more hungry than you thought, then that’s fantastic,” she holds the bowl of soup while he props himself up.

As expected, he just kind of swirls the spoon around after he forces a bit of it down.

“Morgan?” Spencer asks quietly, “Have you ever seen someone go through withdrawal?”

Morgan just nods, and Spencer continues, “I want you to know I’m advance that I’m sorry for whatever I do. The last time I went without Dilaudid it was only a few days— thirty nine hours— and I _hated_ who I was.”

The two just stare at him, and he swallows down a spoonful of warm broth, eyes full of unadulterated worry, “How bad is this going to be?”

“ _Horrible_ ,” Morgan sighs, and he looks like he would give anything to see Reid be anywhere else, “But we’re going to be here around the clock, and you’re going to be okay in the end.” 

Reid swallows thickly, nodding, “I’m _scared_.”

And he can tell from the way that JJ says, “everything _will_ be okay again,” that she’s trying to convince herself of it too.

“Garcia looked into it, and she said it’ll take you about seven to ten days to fully detox, but the symptoms will peak anywhere from twelve to twenty four hours after your last dose.”

They wait expectantly and Reid realises they’re waiting for him to fill in the blanks, “three, I took my last dose at three.”

Morgan turns to glance at the clock, “in that case, you should try to go to bed. It’s probably going to be your last good night of asleep for a few days.”

Reid may not be the best at social cues, but he understands the unspoken, ‘and mine’ behind Morgan’s words.

So he nods, taking another hearty sip of the chicken noodle soup in his hands, before rising to his feet. He can feel the tendrils of pain beneath his skin, the pins and needles— not unlike when you accidentally grab a rose by its thorns. 

This is the beginning of a chapter, he thinks, one that is going to be one of the most painful in his little book of life.

And as he trudges forwards to his bedroom, he realises that he’s just signed, sealed, and post marked his letter of fate.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you feeling _any_ better?” Morgan knocks on the bathroom door.

They’d stirred awake around five in the morning to the sound of Reid‘s body revolting in his bathroom.

“No,” he moans pitifully, “Please _don’t_ come in.”

Morgan can tell that Spencer, more likely than not, is trying to protect them from the monster that’s bound to come out with his withdrawal.

“You know that because you said that I have to open the door now, right?” Morgan cracks open the door, and it’s terrible that he has to admit he’s glad to see the kids current— well, existence.

He’s sitting on the floor in a t-shirt and pants, head resting heavily against the porcelain toilet seat.His hair is matted down with sweat, breaths hitching from the pain lacing his abdomen.

“You can leave now,” Spencer mumbles, bringing his arm up to brace his forehead, “I’m not dosing myself with—“

“I know,” Morgan soothes, sitting on the counter, “I’m sorry for having to double check.”

Spencer doesn’t move, and Morgan is a almost positive that the kid is rolling his eyes and cursing him with physics magic voodoo. Spencer shoulders move with a heavy sigh, and he turns to looks at Morgan. 

He looks like _death_.

“Morgan,” He states, eyes narrowed into a glare, “If you need to go through my cabinets to look for dilaudid, please do so and get out. I can feel myself getting incredibly enraged, and if you don’t leave I’ll start yelling and I don’t think either of us needs that right now.”

The sheer amount of will power this kid has right now is remarkable, “Is there any dilaudid in here?”

“Are you going to _believe_ me?”

And that’s how Morgan ends up shuffling around Spencer’s bathroom, checking every possible nook and cranny that the kid could’ve possibly stuffed his dilaudid.

He expects the kid to finally snap and tell him to get lost, and just when he’s positive it’s about to happen, Reid’s breaths get unsteady and uncomfortably heavy. Not long after, the kid’s wretches fill the air, and Morgan takes that as his cue to leave.

“Do you need anything?”

He’s expecting a yell, or a demand that he leaves, but instead he just gets the croaked request, “water please. I need something to get out of my stomach.”

Morgan reappears, uncapping the water and handing it to Reid, who takes it with a quiet mumble of thanks.

“I’ll get out of your hair. If you get hungry or feel any better JJ is cutting up some apples and peanut butter for you.” 

“Morgan?” Spencer calls, continuing when Morgan hums in question, “If this is the beginning, I am so sorry for whatever I do or say.” 

“I know, Kid,” he whispers, “I know.” 

Much to Morgan’s surprise, that is the most exciting part of their day. Reid stumbles out of the bathroom smelling like vomit, to which JJ forces a bottle of water into Spencer before sending him right back in for a shower. 

This time, when Spencer reappears, he smells a little more like lavender and cologne and a lot less like vomit. He heaved a sigh, flopping down against the couch and staring at the ceiling. 

JJ sits on the table, plate balanced on her lap as she watches him breathe in an out. Eventually, he turns his head, blinking at her curiously. 

“Want some apples?” She questions, watching as his eyes flicker down to the plate and then back up at her. Her eyes soften at the way his face twists up at the sight of food. “How’re you feeling, Spence?” 

“I feel like I’m _dying_ ,” He grumbles, “I never get sick and this is basically the worst possible flu I could ever have. I’d almost rather be hit over the head and dragged through that stupid cornfield again.” 

Spencer blinks his eyes open, catching JJ’s poorly masked expression of guilt. He takes an apple of the plate, coating it in peanut butter and taking a small bite. 

“What changed your hunger?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“You looked guilty,” He blurts, unable to lie with the way he feels, “it’s not your fault that Tobias took me, you know. I’m the one that suggested we split up.” 

“It’s just hard to believe that when you’re the one going through this mess, and all I can do it watch and make you drink water.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Reid murmurs, “You also made me soup and apple slices.” 

Despite herself, JJ snorts. Reid’s lips quirk upwards, and he closes his eyes. 

“How long has it been since you slept? Like, actually slept?” 

“Yesterday, in Hotch’s office. Besides that and the drug induced unconsciousness probably a while,” he sees JJ’s furrowed brows, “I was pretending to be asleep when I was on the couch yesterday.”

“You’re a little shit sometimes,” she says it teasingly, and Reid just cracks his eyes back open, not even realising he’d closed them in the first place. 

“Thanks,” he says on on exhale. “It’s because I never got to be one when I was growing up. I get it from my dad.” 

“Alright, Kid,” Morgan appears holding a blanket from the linen closet, tucking it around Reid who snuggles into it and the pillow under his head, “You’re going to need all the rest you can get. Whenever you feel tired, you’re going to take a nap, got it?” 

Reid’s reaction is delayed, they’re almost confident he’s our like a light, until he slowly manages to whisper back, “Got it.” 

When Reid wakes up, JJ is gone and the sun and raised significantly higher into the sky. He startles when he catches sight of Penelope sitting on one of his arm chairs, knitting in the corner. He buries his face in the pillow beneath him, nausea pulling at his stomach. 

“Sorry, Boy Wonder, didn’t meant to scare you,” there’s a bit of amusement in her voice and Spencer just peaks his eyes open glaring at her. “Oh, I’m blessed with _grumpy_ boy wonder, huh?” 

“He’s awake?” Morgan calls from somewhere in Spencer’s apartment, probably the kitchen, his footfalls reaching the living room. 

There’s too much noise between both of his coworkers, and he’s overwhelmed with the urge to cover his ears. He shoves it down though, desperately trying to focus on Morgan’s voice and to ignore the clicking of Penelope’s knitting needles, or the sound of the the teapot. 

Morgan seems to notice his discomfort, because he lowers his voice several decibels before continuing, “Hey Kid, you were out for a lot longer than I thought you’d be. Can you drink some water for me?” 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow as he turns to Morgan, eyes flickering to his clock. It’s only been two hours, if that. 

“Kid, it’s been over a day,” Morgan murmurs, as if sensing Reid’s confusion. “You were restless, but definitely asleep the whole time.” 

“That’s probably why I have to pee so bad,” utters, pushing the blanket off and rising to his feet. 

Once he disappears into the bathroom, Morgan who looks at Penelope. 

“I’ve never seen Boy Wonder angry, and let me be the first to tell you, Morgan, I am not a fan! Not one bit!” She mumbles, setting her half knitted sweater to the side. 

“It won’t be long,” Morgan tells her, “Reid’s a strong kid.” 

Spencer doesn’t renter the room, and right as Morgan is about to ask if he’s alright, when there’s a thud from the direction of the bathroom. 

Morgan and Penelope are both in the room, and Spencer is sitting on the ground, fingers digging into his temples painfully. 

“You alright?” Morgan murmurs, and he can tell that Reid is swallowing down the bile ( _or tears?)_ that are rising in his throat. 

Reid is shaking and goosebumps are spotting along the patches of skin that are exposed to Morgan’s eyes. 

“ _Kinda_ ,” He mumbles, voice hoarse as he tucks his legs to cross under him, dropping his head fully into his hands. “I think I’m dehydrated.” 

Penelope must’ve gotten the memo before it left the kids mouth, because she renters the room uncapping a bottle and handing it to the kid who clearly has to stop himself from downing the bottle in one go. 

“Do you want to lay down?” Morgan finds himself asking. 

“No,” Reid responds, shoving down another dry heave. “The floor is cold— I feel like I’m overheating.” 

“AC and fan?” Garcia offers, earning a slight nod from Reid. “Sixty-eight, okay?” 

She first turns on the fan perched in the corner of his bedroom, and disappears to the front of the apartment where his temperature control dial is. 

“Can I shower?” Reid asks, and the way he looks up at Morgan gives Derek all the answer he needs. 

“I think you should settle for washing your face and changing. I’m worried you’ll go down and split your head open.” Reid doesn’t fight him, gulping down the rest of his water and rising to his feet, but then Morgan offers, “I can run you a bath, but you have to leave the door cracked and be okay with Penelope or I checking on you if you’re in there for too long and don’t respond.” 

Reid blinks at him, looking at the bathtub and then back at Morgan, nodding slightly. 

“Cool water?” Morgan asks, turning on the faucet. 

Reid watches him, sitting on the close toilet seat, “yeah.” 

“You’ve got it, Pretty Boy,” Morgan murmurs, waiting for the tub to fill, adding a bit of Epsom Salt to help with Reid’s stiffness, and finally dipping a hand in to check the temperature. He’s on his way out, stopping at the door before asking softly, “You doing alright?” 

“I feel worse than before. Morgan, I feel like I’m _dying_ ,” he breathes, shirt balled in his hands. He glances down at the crook of his elbow, running his fingers over the scars, “I’ve never felt this many emotions in my life— I can usually shove them down. I can’t do it _and_ fight the cravings _and_ the physical aspect of it at the same time.” 

“I’m sorry, Kid. You’re almost over the worst of it though.” 

“Eighty-Five percent of people relapse,” Reid sniffs, wiping at the tears that have since gathered and fallen, “I just want to take the pain away, and I can’t because doing that is what has created this problem.”

Morgan’s beginning to understand that this kids only form of emotional communication is through statistics. He’s terrified, of what he’ll become and if he’s strong enough. 

“I’ve said it so many times, Kid. You’re so unbelievably strong. I watched you get beaten by someone with three personalities in a shed, and come back to life. You can come back from this too,” Reid just bobs his head once, rising to his feet. 

Morgan watches him catch his breath and quell his tears. The kids ribs are significantly less bruised than when they found him and the scar from his ankle surgery is almost gone. He clearly needs to get some sort of meal into him though. 

“Is there anything we can get you that sounds remotely appetising?” Morgan inquires, eyes focused on how Reid’s hip bones and ribs just out, “Chicken tenders and fries?” 

He means it as a joke, but when he sees Reid’s look his eyes soften, “Do you actually want that? Whatever you want is just an order away.” 

Reid nods, cheeks flushing from embarrassment (and fever). 

“No problem, Kid. I’ll have Hotch bring some, he’s stopping by with some electrolytes too. Anything else?” He does his best to convey that none of this is changing his opinion of the kid. 

Reid just shakes his head, “I’m okay. _Thanks_ , Morgan.” 

“Anytime, Kid.” 

  
  


After Reid has a chicken tender and a handful of fries, Penelope finally feels like she can breathe.

“How do you feel, Boy Genius?” Reid throws an arm over his eyes, letting out a huff.

“You remember when Gideon said I looked like a vampire the first time I smiled at work?” Penelope nods, and Reid’s lips form a tight line, “Like I’m about to become one.”

“ _Oh_. Boy Wonder, you’re referencing _pop culture._ I’m more worried than ever,” she gasps, a hand on her heart.

She fights back her grin when Reid moves his arm to look at her. He throws a pillow at her, but it lacks any actual heat.

“You know, considering the circumstance, you’re a lot less sassy than I was expecting.”

“Penelope, I feel like I’m dying even more because I’ve been holding back my snide remarks for the past three days,” he expects her to look offended, but instead she just snorts.

“Is that why you said, ‘ _no, you’re_ my _bitch_ ’ in your sleep?” She grins.

“ _Sure_ ,” he replies vaguely, and in all honestly he doesn’t remember any of the dream he was having, but it was worth it to see the look of surprise that paints her features. 

It turns out that his comment about holding back snide remarks does not extend to when Reid is physically sick. Morgan and Garcia are sitting on Reid’s bed, listening to him wretch over and over again— wincing at the moan of pain. The toilet flushes, and Morgan opens the door, Garcia in tow.

Morgan sets the water bottle on the edge of the tub, sitting on the counter and looking over Reid’s prone form. His head is resting on a rolled up towel, a thin layer of sweat glimmering on his forehead, and his lithe frame is curled up in pain.

“Any better?” Reid cracks open his eyes, sending a glare at Morgan.

“Do I look like I’m thriving, Morgan?” His voice is clipped, mouth pulled into a scowl.

“So, _no_?” He asks, nudging Reid’s ankle with his foot.

It’s clear that all of this was a terrible idea the second Reid hisses, “Get out.” 

“I can’t, I’m kind worried that you’re going to end up blacking out on the floor,” Penelope nudges him but he stands his ground.

“Derek, get _out_.”

“ _No_.”

He knows he’s messed up big time when Reid pushes himself up onto shaking elbows, and though the kid is anything but intimidating. He’s shaking and covered in a veil of sweat— but there’s something in the kids eyes that scream that he’s been holding back his thoughts for way to long.

“Yeah,” Reid growls, eyes narrowing, “I wanted to kill myself.”

Morgan blinks once, twice, “what?”

“You asked me if I wanted to kill myself, and the answer? It’s _yes_ ,” he’s louder, more sure of the harm he’s inflicting, “I wanted to kill myself because none of you could see I was drowning and if you could, you never _cared_ enough to ask if I was okay. I wanted to kill myself and I _still_ do. Get out, Morgan.”

Morgan turns to look at Garcia, but finds she’s already disappeared again, out the door and into the living room. Despite the way his heart throbs painfully in his chest, he’s glad that the kid finally snapped.

He can see the regret in Reid’s eyes when Morgan nods, backing out and closing the door behind him. He hides it with a scowl, disappearing under the façade he’s carefully crafted in the past few months.

Morgan finds Garcia in the living room, coddling herself as she looks out the kid’s window.

“Garcia—“

“Morgan, it’s bad enough that we didn’t notice how serious this was but we didn’t notice that he wanted to die too,” she shakes her head, “We just assumed he compartmentalised until Hotch got those tox screens, what does that say about us?”

A heavy sigh finds its way out of Morgan and he slumps against the couch, “You’re right.”

She turns to look at him, and he keeps talking— as if she’d finally burst the dam he’d so carefully crafted in order to help Reid through this mess, “We’re profilers. Our whole job is to recognise mental illness and behaviour and we all thought that his way of compartmentalising was in snippy comments and disassociating. I’ve kicked myself again and again over it, Baby Girl. Believe me. All I can do now, is help him get through it.” 

When Reid re-emerges from the room he’d locked himself in, JJ and Hotch are the only others inhabiting his home.

He walks past them, getting a cup and filling it with water. Then, the world starts spinning and he’s regretting the warm shower he’d decided to take. It did absolutely nothing to help his dehydration. 

JJ and Hotch seem to notice he’s going down before he even begins to register the motion himself, and as he loses consciousness he feels each take on of his arms easing him down onto the hardwood below.

It’s five long minutes of Hotch and JJ looking between each other and their friend who lies unresponsive on the floor before Reid’s eyes slowly blink open.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he blurts, eyes glancing between Hotch and JJ’s faces, “did I just faint?”

“Yeah,” JJ says, her voice not too far off from a soft coo. She tucks Reid’s hair away from forehead.

Something odd happens though. He can tell from the way her eyebrows furrow, but his question is answered before he can ask it. She presses a flat hand to his forehead, then to his cheeks looking at Hotch.

He mimics her motions and Reid flails, brushing their hands away and glancing between them, “what?”

“I think your fever broke,” Hotch mumbles, disappearing to find the thermometer.

He soon reappears, waiting for the beeping to stop before he pulls the small piece of equipment into his line of sight.

“Ninety-eight-point-six,” Hotch states simply, as JJ looks Reid over. “I think you’re getting over the worst of it.”

Reid allows his eyes to shut, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“What are you thinking, Spence?”

“Not thinking,” he mumbles, “too busy hoping I don’t vomit _again_.”

Silence creeps over them, and Spencer reopens his eyes once more, “Can I have my water now?”

“Yeah,” Hotch says, handing Spencer a new bottle from the fridge as JJ helps prop him up. He sways, and she lets him rest against her shoulder between sips.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asks after Spencer cracks open a second bottle.

“Like I’m dying, but only about ninety seven percent this time,” he murmurs, “can we dim the lights once I get off the floor? My head hurts.”

“Sure, Reid,” Hotch responds, rubbing a soft circle into the young doctor’s back, “whatever you need.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re sure you’re ready for this, Kid?” Morgan asks, standing beside Reid in the elevator. 

“Yeah,” He mumbles, and it’s the first word he’s heard out of him in days. 

The doors open and Morgan follows Reid in tow, though the kids movements are slow and deliberate. His hands shake, even in their white knuckles grip around the satchel of his bag. 

“Hey!” Anderson pops up in front of Reid, earring a surprised jolt from the kid, staring wide-eyed at the agent in front of him. “How are you? You’ve been gone a week.” 

“Yes,” Reid states slowly, licking his lips before continuing, “I had a really bad flu. I’m doing better now.” 

The answer is robotic and rehearsed, eyes never fully meeting Anderson’s, before excusing himself and disappearing to the briefing room. 

“Is he alright?” Anderson inquires, turning his gaze to Morgan, “he looks pale still.” 

“He’s getting there,” Morgan responds, eyes following Reid as he sits down, dropping his face onto the desk. “I think it’ll be another week or two before he’s okay again. He got hit pretty hard.” 

“With...” Anderson hesitates, eyebrows furrowing, “the flu?” 

Morgan nods, bypassing Anderson, muttering, “yeah, the flu.” 

When Morgan slips into his chair, he looks over Reid. The kid is hunched over, face making itself well acquainted with the table and fingers shoved into the crook of his elbow. 

It has to hurt, the amount of pressure the kid is exerting—combined with the length of his nails. Morgan takes in the way the kids knee bounces, breaths deep but shaking. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Reid’s only response is a short shake of the head, squeezed shut eyes briefly coming into Morgan’s view. “Not even some coffee?” 

He hesitates this time before nodding slightly, just and Penelope walks in. Morgan sends her a look on his way out and her eyes focus on Spencer. 

_Oh Boy_ Wonder, she thinks as she cues her iPad up to the monitor, _how I wish I could take your pain._

Spencer barely interjects in the their talk on the plane, opting for staring out the window and selectively listening. 

“Boy Genius,” Morgan pulls him into the conversation, “What are the statistics on the number of crimes in Oregon?” 

“It’s at a decrease, they’re projected to reach a drop of thirteen percent by the end of this year,” he peels his eyes away from the window, only long enough to rattle the information and return his gaze to the clouds. 

“Are you alright?” Emily’s voice rings through the silence, and Reid simply blinks at her. “So, no?” 

“You don’t have to walk around it like no one knows. Everyone knows I’m addicted to Dilaudid,” He states bluntly, “you all saw me blackout on Hotch’s couch, you’ve all heard me snap at you. You all know I’m going through withdrawal, and you all treat me like glass. _Don’t.”_

“Spence—“ she starts but he cuts her off. 

“Was that not the answer you wanted? Is this any better? Yes, Emily, I’m fine and my addiction went to the wind after Hotch had his fairy godmother bippity boppity boo me back to normalcy.” His voice is dry and monotone, and somehow that’s worse. 

It’s after this statement, he slides out from his spot at the table, sitting at the furthest end of the couch. The team just exchanges a few looks that generally range between sad and exhausted, focusing on Reid and he flips open his book and curls into himself reading the time away. 

They corner Reid in a room after he has a minor spat with an officer who refuses to believe that a kid younger than him is more intelligent. 

“Kid, are you sure you’re ready for this? You’ve been acting—“

“What? Like an addict?” Reid hisses, crossing his arms over his chest.

Morgan and Hotch just stare at him, unamused. Amusement, Reid reminds himself, was not the intent of the statement.

Morgan’s eyes zero in on the way the kid presses heavily into the crevice of his arm where it had so many times before. He’s shaking still, and his skin is so pale still is basically translucent.

“I was right,” Reid says confidently, “he didn’t believe me until Hotch said it again.”

“That’s not a reason for you to call him out! Kid, you’ve been picking fights all day!”

“What do you mean?” Reid growls, “I was right, and he didn’t believe me! Maybe it’s because I’m just an addict.”

“I think you need to go back to the hotel,” Hotch commands suddenly, and Reid and Morgan’s eyes snap to him.

Reid turns boneless, all his anger slipping out of him at once, “ _No_.”

“It’s an _order_ ,” Hotch states, running a hand over his forehead. “You are going to go sit in that hotel until you can act your age. You’re out of line and I have been more than lenient.” 

“No,” Reid breathes, his voice pleading, while Hotch continues in his rant, “No, I _can’t_. No, I can’t. No, I can’t.”

His words become a dull drone, stuck on a repeated loop of the same three words leaving his frame over and over again.

“Hotch,” Morgan calls, voice becoming more desperate when Reid starts digging his fingers more harshly against his inner elbow, “ _Hotch_!” 

The unit chief’s eyes snap to Morgan, following his gaze back to the young doctor. He stares for a long moment until Reid’s knees start to buckle beneath him, breaths turning into sharp pants as he continues to murmur the same three words.

Once he reaches the floor, he pulls his knees up to his chest, back pressed against the wall and he becomes increasingly smaller and smaller, curled up to the point in which any potato bug would be jealous of him.

Morgan and Hotch only share a look, going to sit on either side of Reid.

“Breathe for me, Kid,” Morgan whispers, reaching out to press a hand on Reid’s shoulder— which only serves to receive a startled jump and whimper from the kid. “In and out, okay?”

Reid only raises his hands up, settling them around the back of his neck and the base of his skull. Other than the violent shaking from his wheezing breaths, he’s completely still, face buried between his knees.

“What do you need us to do?” Hotch finds himself murmuring quietly, guilt welling up in his stomach.

Reid shakes his head simply, it’s a curt movement— one that gives a clear indication that he’s not completely lost in his head, but that he could be if they don’t catch him soon.

“Do you need to stay here? With you? We can send you back with someone,” Hotch adds softly, confining when he sees Reid shake his head, “You want to stay here?”

A nod and wheezing breaths. They just sit there for a long few minutes, Reid slowly disconnecting more and more from reality until he goes stalk still, breaths fast and his figure  balled up.

He stays like that for an uncomfortable duration of time, Morgan and Hotch exchanging silent glances over Reid’s bunched up frame.

And then slowly, his breaths even out and Reid comes out of the panic attack. His breaths are still rasping in his lungs and his hands shake when he takes the water with two hands, slowly sipping.

“Better?” Hotch asks, and when Reid’s face crumbles his paternal instincts take over.

He pulls Reid into a reassuring hug, just as barely calmed breaths turn into body wracking sobs. They rattle Reid’s entire frame to the point where even Hotch struggles to keep himself steady.

The older agent simply runs a comforting hand up and down the kids back, hushing him as he would Jack, after a skinned knee.

“You’re going to be _okay_ ,” he coos, his voice a comforting murmur, “I’m _so_ sorry.”

It’s the first time that Reid has broken down in front of them, and Morgan’s heart feels like it’s being ripped from his chest.

It wasn’t when they found him in that cemetery, not when during his first case back, not on the one month anniversary, but now, here. It happens when he’s coming out of a panic attack, sitting on the floor in a private room in the back of a police station in Oregon, and buried in his unit chief’s arms.

_What a parallel_ , Hotch thinks to himself silently, he didn’t break down in his arms in the graveyard when he was being surrounded by people, but rather in Hotch’s arms after he had threatened to send Reid to solitude.

“I can’t be alone,” Reid hiccups, gripping onto Hotch with more strength than either of them thought the kid had in him. “ _Please_.”

“Okay, okay,” Hotch soothes, hugging him back just as tightly, “We won’t send you to the hotel, you can stay here. Someone will be with you as long as you need.”

Reid just continues to sniff, trying to choke down his tears.

“Kid, if you need to let it out, let it out,” Morgan says softly, patting the upturned, inner side of Reid’s right shoe.

That only serves to bring them back to square one, and Reid starts crying harder. He expects a glare from Hotch but instead find the unit chief’s eyes closed, supporting the back of Reid’s head with a hand.

_It’s not fair_ , Morgan thinks, _to put this kid through so much and have him still feel like he has to bottle everything up._

Eventually Reid does stop crying, and the three of them walk back into the room at what seems like the most inopportune time.

“That kid got kidnapped?” The sheriff howls with laughter, “you expecting me to believe that piece of hay with googly eyes attached would _survive_ one day?”

Morgan is just about to punch the cop in the face when a hoarse voice speaks up from behind them.

“ _Three_ ,” Reid croaks, and Sheriff McComb freezes, finding Reid’s splotchy face staring back at him numbly, “I was in a mostly dark shed for three days, while I was beat, fired blank rounds of roulette at, and being verbally abused. So yes, I _survived_ one day.”

His voice is mostly monotone, but the grip on his messenger bag tells the team everything he’s missing.

The sheriff is still staring at him, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as she tries to stutter out some form of apology, but the words die in his throat before they can ever fully form.

“I also was injected with hydromorphone cut with DMT,” He mumbles, “and I... _died_... so I’d just appreciate it if you’d forget about it because I’m _really_ trying to, myself.”

“I think you should go,” JJ says, gesturing to the door as Morgan moved Reid out of the way for the sheriff to pass.

Reid’s eyes are stuck on the floor and Morgan finds himself terrified that the kid is going to slip into another panic attack. 

But he doesn’t, he just swallows hard and looks at Morgan.

“Do you remember when you said that if I needed something to let you know?” He inquires, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, Kid.” Morgan nods softly, searching Reid’s eyes for any hint as to what the kid needs, “ _Anything_.”

“Can I take a nap?” He mutters, sounding impossibly young. “I though that— I hoped I’d be able to pretend like I didn’t just spend the last two hours crying like an infant on Hotch, but I think I just need to close my eyes and rest for a while.”

He doesn’t realise that JJ has cleared the couch behind him until morgan is sitting down and helping him out of his satchel. Meanwhile, Hotch is untying and helping him out of his shoes the way a parent would after their kid had fallen asleep with them on.

Once he’s prone, Emily swoops in with a blanket that seems to have been pulled from thin air, tucking him in tightly as his breaths begin to slow before they slip into soft snores.

“How long has it been since he’s slept?” Emily asks.

“ _Well_?” Hotch questions rhetorically, “Probably when that first night that Morgan was with him. Other than that, I’d say about two days ago. The unconscious bouts from the dilaudid were the only way for him to get rid of the nightmares, and withdrawal symptoms include restlessness.”

They sit in that room with him, long after the slight rumbles have morphed into near silent, and utterly relaxed breaths.

And when he becomes restless with the onslaught of relentless nightmares, Emily sits besides him, combing her fingers through his hair to ease him back into his placid rest.

“Is he going to be okay?” JJ mumbles, eyes bouncing between the rise and fall of Spencer’s chest and the soft and languid look on his face.

“I don’t know,” Hotch blurts earnestly, for the first time he genuinely sounds unsure. “Physically? Yes, I think the cravings will stop and he’ll slowly piece himself back together. Emotionally and mentally? This isn’t the same Spencer he was a year ago, and I doubt he’ll ever be again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave comments and kudos they make my day


	4. Chapter 4

When Spencer wakes up, Emily is sitting at the round table, reviewing case files and he can feel the sheriff’s eyes burning into him from across the room.

His contacts are tacky, sticking to his eyes with sleep and he tries to blink away the grogginess, pushing himself up which gains Emily’s attention.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Emily greets, chuckling under her breath, “You feel any better?”

“Oh, I feel _swell_ ,” Spencer mumbles sardonically, running his hands over his face. He slowly rises to his feet, closing the space between the couch and the table to look at the files spread across the table. “Did I miss much?”

“You were only out for a few hours, Hotch and Morgan are looking over the first crime scene again. JJ and Gideon are at the second,” she murmurs, “I think you need to look over some of this, especially the letters.”

“Do you think they’re coded?” He inquires, dragging a chair to sit beside her as she slides a letter from the middle of the table to sit before him.

“I don’t know,” She says earnestly, “this guy is exceptionally good at hiding in plain sight.”

“I’m sorry,” the cop pipes up, and both of the agents eyes turn to him. Spencer knows he’s wrong in assuming the cop is apologising before, and that’s only solidified when he continues on, “how is this kid going to help crack a code that none of your older male agents could crack?”

Spencer would have to be daft to not hear the misogyny.

“I have three PHDs and according to all standards I am a genius,” he says, finally able to direct his repressed sass at a target that deserves it, “how about you?”

“You just had to take a _nap_!” The cop exclaims, looking utterly bothered, “you had to take a nap because you got overwhelmed!”

“I’m sorry,” Emily cuts in before Spencer can get another word in, “You called us here and now you’re verbally harassing a federal agent— who is your best chance at seeing what none of us can.”

The cops huffs, striding out of the room.

“You alright?” Emily questions, and when he turns to her, she’s not looking at him.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” She moves her gaze to him, eyes soft and expression painfully guilty, “But thank you, for saying that.”

She just sends him a soft smile, “Anytime. 

It’s nearing three in the morning and Spencer his holding his mug of coffee tightly, blinking at the board in front of him.

“You know it’s okay to take a break, Kid,” Morgan murmurs, standing beside Spencer to look at the board himself.

“I know,” Spencer responds, “It’s just—“

The hesitation is long enough that Morgan looks at Spencer. There’s something behind the kid’s eyes that tell him maybe he’ll be alright after all.

Spencer turns, glancing around to make sure no one is eavesdropping, but instead he finds everyone but Hotch slumped in a slumber that is anything but restful.

He restarts, dropping his voice and octave, “This is the first time since Hankel that I feel like I can do my job with some sort of clarity. The world isn’t muffled with a high or with cravings, it’s vivid. I think there’s parts of me that I will never get back, but I’m starting to feel normal again.”

“You’re not craving anymore?” Morgan blurts before he can stop himself.

He’s knows he’s made a poor assumption when Reid’s eyes fill with hurt and disappointment— it’s not directed at Morgan’s, just at himself— but it’s there.

“No,” he replies sombrely, “I cannot begin to explain to you just how badly I want a hit. Morgan my skin is prickling to the point where I’m scared I’m having a schizophrenic break.”

“You’re not,” Morgan reassures and his eyes catch Reid’s finger burrowed against them crook of his elbow, “Does it help?”

Reid looks at him confused, following his gaze to his arm. He drops his fingers, stumbling over his words, “I-I didn’t even know I was doing that. Have I been doing that a lot?”

Morgan nods, focusing on Reid’s face to see the poorly masked anxiety coursing through the kid.

“ _Hey._ ” he rests a hand on Reid’s shoulder and it becomes more apparent than before that he was very quickly slipping back into the mindset he’d been in a few hours ago, “ _breathe_ with me kid.” 

Reid nods, and reaches out, latching onto Morgan tightly, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, do what you need to do to ground yourself. I’m here for you.” He wraps his arms around Reid, running a calming hand along the fabric of the kids cardigan while he tries to pull in a stable breath.

“Morgan, I want a hit so bad,” he whispers, “so, _so_ bad.”

“I know kid. You’re gonna get through this,” he soothes, “You’re gonna be just fine in the end.” 

In the end, Reid is the one to break through the cryptic message, pulling an address and saving the last victim. It’s only after he tackles and cuffs an unsub that McComb looks at him like he’s actually worth space.

He’s holding an ice pack to his face, waiting for Hotch to tell him they’re all leaving. He’s essentially nodding off when a hand slaps down on his shoulder, and at once he’s on high alert, eyes wide and breaths erratic.

He’s since discarded the ice pack in his hurry, back pressing into the gurney behind him. Hankel’s face swim in front of him, “get _back_.”

“I’m sorry!” A voice that is definitively different than the one that haunts through his worst nightmares speaks up, “I’m sorry kid— _Doctor_.”

Reid’s hand is pressed to his chest, hand pressed to his chest as he struggles to catch his breath and regain his composure.

“Why—“ he gasps, “what do you possibly want? Haven’t you _terrorised_ me enough?”

“I’m sorry,” McComb says simply, “for everything, I should’ve put my faith in you. You saved my life back there.”

“That’s my job,” Spencer mumbles, pushing himself up on shaky legs, “doesn’t mean—“

He stops himself before he can say anything rude, shaking his head to himself as he lowers his converse clad feet onto the concrete below.

“Doesn’t mean what?”

Spencer shrugs, pursing his lips, “people underestimate me a lot.”

“I thought you made up the kidnapping,” he says and Spencer freezes, shoulders stiffeningas McComb continues, “And the genius stuff too. I thought they were trying to make a rookie look better than he was. I don’t think I even fully believed the kidnapping until right then. People don’t just react to touch like that. I’m sorry.”

Spencer turns, “it happens.”

and with that, be turns on his heels. He doesn’t owe that sheriff forgiveness, not yet at least. 

They think he’s sleeping when they start talking, and while Reid’s somewhat annoyed he also doesn’t blame them.

“Does anyone know what happened to him before we left?” It’s Morgan’s voice who fills the silence, and Reid can practically feel their eyes on him.

“I think McComb talked to him. He was shaking when he got in the SUV. Whatever McComb said, it wasn’t good.”

“He put his hand on my shoulder without any warning,” Spencer sighs, and opening his eyes to look at them. He pushes himself up to sit, eyes focused on them. “He put his hand on my shoulder, and I saw Hankel in front of me. It was only for a _second_ , but I couldn’t catch my breath.”

“It’s okay, Spence,” JJ murmurs, “you’ve been through a lot.”

Spencer simply shrugs, pulling at his hair. Distantly, he wonders if cutting it would make him feel better. He brushes the thought away.

“I’m fine,” he bites the bottom of his lips, “all of you are looking at me like I’m going to throw myself off the plane.”

“We’re just worried,” Emily says.

“Because you never know when I’ll snap?” He asks before he can stop himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay. Let it out.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Reid let’s out a chuckle, though it’s mirthless, “I feel too bad directing it at you.”

“We didn’t realise anything was wrong, Reid,” it’s Hotch, “I had to pull your tox screens to know that something was wrong.”

Reid just stares blankly at him, unsure of what to do or say next. He has a point, and as much as Reid hate to admit it, it does cause an ache in his chest.

“Well, Reid...” he starts, before pausing, “Reid.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, “is there a reason that—“

“ _Reid_ ,” Spencer jolts when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, eyes snapping open before focusing blearily on Hotch’s face above him.

The cabin is dark and everyone seems to be asleep with the exception of Hotch, who’s crouching down to the side of the couch.

“Hey,” Hotch greets, “You were talking in your sleep. It was pretty much incoherent, but you sounded stressed.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he mumbles, pushing himself up.

Hotch’s hand just puts his hands on the kids shoulders, settling him back against the couch before grabbing a blanket from the compartment above.

“Go back to sleep, it’s only been an hour, we still have six more to go. I was just falling asleep and I heard your breaths start hitching.” He settles the blanket over Reid, giving him a once over, “do you need to talk about it?”

Reid shakes his head silently, and Hotch nods, “If you need me— or _anyone_ , you know where to find us.”

“Yeah,” Reid assures him, and once he gets the response he’s looking for he simply nods, patting Reid’s shoulder before returning to the chair he’d been in.

Slowly, Spencer settles into his back, staring at the ceiling.

“I think it’d be a good time for you to try and write your Hankel case report,” the sentence is hesitant, as Hotch carefully sets the blank page in front of Reid.

“Hotch,” he shakes his head, and he can feel the dread crawling up his throat, threatening to rear its ugly head in the form of an uncontrolled sob, “I _can’t_.”

“I thought you would say that,” he say, voice calm, “everyone on the team has agreed that you can choose one of us to write it out while you talk.”

Spencer glances at the bull pen and he gnaws on his bottom lip as he glances around at his friends and co-workers, “Morgan.”

“Alright,” Hotch murmurs coolly, “I’ll send him in.”

Reid is smoothing his hands on his pants, Hotch halfway out the door when he speaks up again.

“Reid,” he says, and Spencer glances up at him. “I don’t need this done today. Just shoot for as much as you can, but if can’t— if you find yourself feeling anything like you did in that office in Oregon, I want you to stop and breathe. The report can wait, you getting better can’t.”

Morgan sits down beside Reid, slipping the pen and blank out from under him.

“Alright, Kid,” Morgan states, never once breaking eye contact. “Walk me through it.”

Spencer just nods, taking a deep breath before the words start pouring out of his mouth.

And he doesn’t stop speaking until he’s completely done, and once it’s out he can help but stare at the wall blankly.

“You alright, kid?” Morgan asks, setting down the pen in his fingertips.

“I _did_ it,” Reid murmurs breathlessly. “ _I_ did _it_ — and I didn’t breakdown.”

“You did it, Kid,” Morgan echoes. “Do you need a minute?”

Reid finds himself absently nodding, and Morgan nods, “I’ll go give this to Hotch. Do you want some water? Coffee?”

“Water, please,” Reid finds himself muttering.

With that, Morgan is gone, and Reid is left alone with his thoughts. 

When he reappears from the office, the team is huddled around the desk and there’s a crisp water sitting next to his name tag.

“Hiya, Boy Wonder,” Penelope greats him simply, “how are you doing?”

“I did it,” he says simply, shrugging faintly. “I did it.”

He’s on a loop again, he _knows_ that.

Penelope just steps forward, hesitating with her arms hovering in front of his frame. He gives her a slight nod and she wraps around him, hugging him tightly.

“You did it.” she nods, letting out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sigh when wraps his arms around her just as tightly. “You did so well, Boy Wonder.”

He just smiles, pressing his face into her shoulder. 


	5. Chapter 5

In the following weeks, the team watches the weight slowly slip off of Reid’s shoulders.

The moment that Morgan truly feels the concern begin to ebb its way out of his body is the day that Reid is crouched over a case file, fingers twiddling anxiously on the table.

Morgan keeps waiting for his nails to find their way to the kid’s inner elbow, but they never do. His knee bounces up and down under the table and they can practically hear his thoughts running at a mile a minute.

Not long after that, they watch someone put a hand on Reid’s shoulder from behind, and while he flinches— it’s nothing like the way he reacted to that sheriff in Oregon.

Slowly, his dark circles fade (well, as much as they can with the amount of sleep he normally gets), and his coffee intake goes down. That being said, he drink one cup less a day but considering that at once point it was five cups a day, they’ll take what they can get.

He stops getting so overwhelmed when he looks at pictures, and while his empathy and sympathy for victims never waivers, it becomes much more manageable that it had when he was essentially devolving into anxiety attacks the second he saw them.

He stops knuckling his eyes, and his breaths don’t hitch as much anymore. His thoughts are compartmentalised and logical, and he _can_ breathe when ever he hears the words, ‘drug, addict, or control’. He rests easily on the jet, for the most part, anyways.

But the most reassuring thing is that he stops seeking out affection. He doesn’t reach for hugs of reaffirmation or reassurance anymore.

There comes a day, however, when they’re working a case in San Francisco, and the head sheriff introduces himself, holding out a hand to each of them.

“Hey,” he says with a warm grin, walking up to Reid who had just entered the room, “I’m Sheriff Tobias Hanwell. You can call me Toby, though.”

There’s a definite moment in which Reid’s entries body stutters to a halt, and Emily is about to make up some statistic about pathogens while Morgan drags the kid out.

But then something odd happens. 

Reid slowly breaks out of his stupor, looking at the extended hand hesitantly. His breaths are unsteady, and he glances between the sheriff’s face and hand for a long moment.

They’re all thinking it— the name, and even the guys looks, down to the hair colour and scruffy beard are just a little too close for comfort.

“I don’t bite,” He teases, a grin taking over his features, “But if you don’t want to shake my hand, that’s alright too. You’re Doctor Reid, right? The last sheriff told me about your spiels about transmission of pathogens by hand. I’m just— you’re like my idol.”

They all watch him, holding their breath.

Finally, Reid snaps out of his daze, extending his hand, clasping it with Toby’s.

“It’s... uh, it’s nice to meet you,” Reid stumbles over his words, but Toby hardly seems to notice.

“No, it’s an honour to meet _you_!” He echos enthusiastically, grinning before returning to his breakdown of leads.

Reid can feel everyone’s eyes focused on him though, as he struggles to breathe for a moment.

And then slowly, he comes out of it, swallowing thickly and blinking away the panic.

He just sends a short nod, as if saying, ‘ _I’m fine.’_

And they leave it alone. 

When they’re about the leave the scene, unsub captured and held securely in the back of a cop car, Reid stops in front of the sheriff.

“Hey, Sheriff, can I speak with you?” He asks, wringing his hands together anxiously.

“Yeah, of course,” The sheriff murmurs, following Reid out of anyone’s direct range of listening. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

“I just wanted to apologise— for how I’ve been acting. I— a few months ago I was...” he hesitates, running a hand over his face, “I was kidnapped by and unsub named Tobias Hankel, and— well, everything about you is just so painfully similar. It’s nothing against you, I’m just trying to move on and it feels like life won’t let me forget sometimes.” 

The sheriff nods, eyebrows furrowing and eyes concerned, “I’m sorry, I wish I could say something to help you.” 

“No! No, it’s okay. I just— you said that I was your idol, and I guess I just didn’t want you to think that it freaked me out. I don’t know how I would react if I met Carl Sagan and he was scared of me. What I’m trying to say is that I’m just naturally freaked out as of late,” Spencer sends him a hesitant smile, which Toby returns easily. 

“I hope you are able to find peace again,” he states, voice warm and encouraging, “and thank you.” 

“For what?” Spencer finds himself inquiring. 

“For telling me. You didn’t have to, and it’s good to know I wasn’t too forthcoming,” He says, he laughs to himself before speaking again, “I was worried that I might’ve had the words, ‘ _I have a fat crush on Spencer Reid_ ’ blinking above me in neon.” 

Spencer finds himself snorting quietly at the comment, “I miss social cues a lot, and besides I don’t notice when people do actually like me— I especially wouldn’t when I think they have a crush on me.” 

“Yeah, about that,” He murmurs back, “I actually _do_ have a fat crush on you. Don’t worry about it though, darling, I’m only a call away.” 

And with that, the sheriff walks away leaving Spencer gaping. 

  
  


“I can’t believe you didn’t realise it!” Morgan howls, clutching his stomach as JJ and Prentiss sir across from them, “he dropped a pen in front of you! Do you know how classic that move is?”

“No, Morgan,” Reid blurts, voice mocking, “I was too busy thinking about how to keep it together with how much he looked like Hankel.”

The mood drops, and Reid sighs, tapping his fingers against the table. “There is part of me that will never stop feeling remorse about killing Hankel. I know I had to, but you didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t hear the way he asked if he would see him mom again. He’s one of those unsubs that I can’t see as anything but truly human.”

He rubs his eyes with the palm of his hands roughly, heaving out a heavy sigh.

“I’m fine,” he says softly, feeling their eyes burning into his skin, “ _genuinely_.”

“We believe you, Kid,” Morgan assures softly, running a hand over Reid’s shoulders, “but we’ll always worry about you. Whether it’s tomorrow or ten years from now.”

Spencer just nods, as if saying, ‘ _I know_ ’. 

The last time they realise that the kid truly is okay, ironically, is when they get a call at two in the morning to report by three thirty.

They stumble into the briefing room, seeing Hotch looking over a report, Penelope standing by the projector, reading whatever is on her laptop, and Reid’s head propped up against his fist, fast asleep.

They stop at the door, hesitant to make any noise. Suddenly, JJ is very glad she decided to get everyone coffee at the twenty four hour coffee shop down the road.

She sets a cup in front of Reid, before gently shaking his shoulder. He opens his eyes blearily, looking around before he realises— that, no, the fall wasn’t a dream, and yes he’d just fallen asleep for the thirty minutes he’d been the in the briefing room.

“How you doing there, Boy Wonder?” Penelope pipes up, and the way Reid’s cheeks turn crimson earns a grin from everyone, even Hotch. “Sleeping alright?”

“Too well, apparently,” he grumbled, fisting his eyes before slipping his glasses back on. “I was having a dream dinner with Einstein and Tesla when I got the call.”

“You were sleeping? Like a whole night?” It’s Emily, and though her voice is teasing— there’s geniuses happiness lingering behind her eyes.

“Well, yeah. Three hours... and then somebody called me,” he flashes a glower that lacks any real heat at Hotch, who simply snorts in response.

“Did I just make you _laugh_?” Reid blurts, sitting up straighter as he narrows his eyes. “You can’t even hide your smile! I _win_! I’m the funniest, suck it Garcia!”

_Yeah_ , the team thinks as Reid victoriously grins to himself, _he’s back._


End file.
